The sky is still and blue as waves of puffy white cloud
follow it down with the descending sun.
Darker blue lingers at the edges enthusiastically, waiting
to drown the paler hues in deeper oceans that blacken each
passing hour. It's like a scripted play where the sun
and its cloud accomplices are forced to surrender
and night rises triumphantly to centre stage -
although not quite receiving an applause.
Unsure, the audience shift uncomfortably in their chairs
as they are left to ponder a dark villain having the victory.
The light is soon drained from it's stocked recesses as
little tea-candle lights reflect against the navy seas,
shimmering like sparkly dancers filling the between scenes.
With bright smiles and sequined tight dresses
they're keen to make it big. They are yet outshone by
the curved crescent edges ascending; prompting
whispers of secrets to the far away planets that the moon
is now here. Almost in reverence the surrounding spaces
begin to glow - stealing the show the absence of colour
coolly shines alone - separated from the stars it
takes its bow on stage, gleaming like freshly watered flowers
it thrives on the delighted gazes of the many below.